Category Archives: beer

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Southern Star Buried Hatchet Stout, People in Texas Like Guns, Stars, Stouts, and Hatchets.

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Wait what. I know what you are thinking “Texas is too fucking hot to be cranking out stouts, I’m looking at you Jester King.” But hold your horses, this beer comes in a can, so that means you can drill this shit next to the river with your Eliminator tied up after a day of game fishing. Imperial stouts are made for cans, how else are you going to shotgun that shit in the NASCAR parking lot? I am sure the Michigan kids are shaking their heads disdainfully at this enterprise, but let’s see if any fucks can be given to this bold star from the south.

I enjoyed this in between games of beer pong with Bruery’s Run BMC; trying to get the legit Texas vibe for this review.

Southern Star Brewing Company
Texas, United States
American Double / Imperial Stout | 8.25% ABV

A: deep brown notes with wateriness and tons of small bubbles no lacing. It seems a bit thinner than I was expecting a bit maltiness and coating. Beggars cannot concurrently exist as choosers, as the old children’s fable goes. I am looking in the rest of the can for the imperial, but if I learned anything from Central Waters or Czar Jack, you get get ninjafucked in the mouth by a sneaky stealth stout imparting a mild wateriness.

This reminds me of a certain imperial porter whose name I shall not bring up in mixed company.

S: It maintains a nice chocolate waft with some black licorice, some mild anise, and brown sugar closer. Pretty solid package for something that CAME FROM A CAN. But seriously, I enjoy the mildly watery aspect of this and it doesn’t go overboard on any single aspect, perfectly balanced like a Dan Brown novel.

T: There is a deep maltiness, that coats well with a ton of brown sugar stickiness. It dries a bit early and goes a little watery at the end. Candidly, this was a lot better than I expected. I was judgmental due to the can but it powered through like a solid bro. The chocochariot rolls up on a lightly malty steed and the masses cast garlands of cocoa nibs and coffee beans. However, the chariot is being driven by two dripping wet dudes in scuba gear.

Thin stout, from Texas, from a can. That stout cray.

M: The coating is pretty thin and didn’t support the ambitious profile that the taste profile presented. It reminds me of the time I turbo charged a 94 Ford Probe, it just couldn’t handle the power under the hood/can. As a side note, wow brown walnut and cocoa really makes it hard to nuke this beer altogether but still, the mouthfeel was a disappointment more akin to the porter realm.

D: Given the super thin character, I guess this can be more versatile but that’s akin to downgrading the size of an engine to improve MPG. It is very drinkable but it comes at a cost. Overall, a pretty legit experience, it feels like an Oasis concert. You aren’t mad that you went but it just feels like they phoned it in. I want an iced version of this beer, make it fucking happen Texas.

Despite its calm demeanor, this beer can probably still fuck you up pretty efficiently.

Narrative: Nabeel was the thinnest barista at the local Starbucks. His tiny hands precisely ground and pounded the beans efficiently. Still, his coworkers couldn’t help but notice his prominent cheek bones reflecting the halogen lights. They further couldn’t look away from his apron hanging slackly off of his concave chest. “Mocha Frap double shot no whip, upside down, zebra.” he called out and quickly spun to begin his next order. “Nabeel is like a tiny barista cyborg sent from the India of the past, which is known as our future to revolutionize the coffee serving enterprise as we know it.” one co-worker quipped in a manner oddly profound for a 17 year-old part time employee. What they didn’t know was that Nabeel held a stict vegan diet and supplemented his lifestyle with incredibly strong coffee, which only seemed to accent his thin nature. “BARISTANATOR!” the perfunctory co-worker added, to the uncaring 2 other employees who were far too busy stacking adjectives upon coffee drinks.

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Fantome Saison, The Original Belgian Incorporeal Gangster Clapping Funky Stacks Like Rack City

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This was the first Fantome that I ever tried and it changed the game for me and saisons. This beer took artistic license and made it clear that old saisons aint nothin to fuck wit. Anyway, I love this brewery, their saisons open up my ghost trap and get my pK meter blasting off the charts. Just don’t cross my streams.

Glassware fail, as usual. I have been pining for a Fantome glass since back when the Fantome ghost was in a corporeal form.

Brasserie Fantôme
Belgium
Saison / Farmhouse Ale | 8.00% ABV

A: Huge grapefruit juice hues, great tiny bubbles, and archipelago lacing rounds out this beer. It has a solid pineapple and orange juice hue with murkiness to it that enhances the glow. Some people complain about the inconsistent nature of this beer but every. single. bottle that I have ever had of this beer had rocked a serious ghost erection through and through.

The ghost will wreck you and embrace you like Bruce Willis in the 6th sense AT THE SAME TIME.

S: There’s huge Belgian spice, nutmeg, clove, and almost brettanomyces funkiness to it. It almost has a wet cardboard muskiness to it. A bit of tartness on the finish that makes this both complex and interesting. There’s some nice fruits like granny smith apples, white grape, and tangelo. This ghost gets all up in your faceholes.

T: Wow, this is unlike any of the other musky spicey saisons that I have previously encountered. This almost has a wild ale character to it. The initial taste is a sweet biscuity hefe taste with some honey notes, the spices kick in and give it the taste of a tart apple baked good. I love the incredible funky sour finish. It is really impressive for the style and imparts an incredible citrus note at the end. As it warms you get some white grapes and tropical fruits. I could drink this all day long and the abv is hidden like a funk ninja.

I WANT MOER THES SO BAED!

M: It has a great murkiness that expands with a funky wheat tone. The coating isn’t overly aggressive but its has a great wheat profile that expands into a biscuity chewiness. Just like all the other foamy carbonation superbikes, this Fantome imparts a huge foamy peelout that is satisfying.

D: I initially was not a huge fan of this style but I must tip my hat and admit concessions to this amazing saison. I gave this to my girlfriend and she noted that it was “pretty good” which is the equivalent of a gold star on her scale. I could give this to any, single, person and rest assured that he or she would enjoy it immensely. The universal appeal is off the scale. I am perpetually in search of Fantome gems.

Santa knows how to fucking rage it. If you have Fantomes in your fridge, you can rally so hard.

Narrative: Lakitu loved the cloud life. Day in day out, tossing refreshing spined monsters down upon the earth. “HEY THERE OLD LAKITU! STILL RUINING PEOPLE’S SHIT?” Lakitu gave a knowing nod and proceeded to throw a spiked beast from 300 feet shattering the small dry cleaning business below. Some would say “hey lakitu, why not just be a refreshing cloud, you know, water the crops and all?” Maybe for a standard refreshing cloud, but Lakitu was born with bite. His acidic temperament fueled his anger and made it rain, not unlike Yung Dro in an Atlanta strip club; notwithstanding instead of dollars it was hateful monsters showered upon the masses below. Life could be worse, you could be an asshole like that Bullet Bill.

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Live Oak Hefeweizen, The Smoothest Drink Since They Discontinued Ectocooler

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Happy Cinco de Mayo. I already busted my cerveza sustantivo earlier this week when I rocked the fuck out of Coronita, so I wanted to do the next best thing. ULTIMATE TEXAS SESSION BEER. I know what everyone is thinking, because I know what I was thinking: “I DON’T LIKE TEH HEFANDWEIZENS, THATS BEER FOR N00BZ.” Sure, but when it is the absolute best hef that I have ever tasted, DOES THAT CHANGE YOUR FUCKING TUNE SIDNEY BECHET? Seriously, this beer is amazing and, appropriately enough, the only times I have received it have been in 2L growlers. As a bonus, you can even give this to attractive people and they will probably drink it and like it, BOOM ROASTED.

The perfect beer to enjoy while watching NBC's hit musical series, SMASH, because after you kill all 64oz, you can smash the growler over your fucking head.

Live Oak Brewing Company
Texas, United States
Hefeweizen | 5.20% ABV

Live Oak Hefeweisen

A: It radiates light with a murky yellow gold undertone, almost like a mountain dew yellow 5 radiance. Nice mild lacing and bubbly head with micro bubbles. If this were a superhero film it would likely be some radioactive substance that provides superhuman properties, which is not entirely untrue; provided that property is drinking 64 oz to myself and passing out on the living room floor. BUT WILL I USE THIS POWER FOR GOOD OR EVIL?

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S: Just fantastic, great lemon muted notes, not overly possessive, it provides lemon at your leisure like an understanding girlfriend. It has a great biscuit smell, like an English muffin with agave syrup on it. Super crisp and refreshing. You ever french kiss a cactus in a delirium from poorly made orange zest wine? Well then you will know what the fuck is going on with this splishy splashy shot of refreshment.

T: Amazing honey taste with very mild cirtus hop presence. It feels like biting into a lemon crueller or bear claw but if it were incredibly light in character. Its effervesence is so crisp and bubbly that that first pint glass was gone almost instantly, not by design. There is an underlying motif of Belgian sweetness that never reveals itself, like a silent protagonist somewhere in the wings of the opera house that is my palate.

Unlike this truck, this beer is probably one of the best things to come out of Texas.

M: This is about as light as it gets and it is all the better for it. It imparts a brackish bit of coating to accompany the nice citrus notes and just has a very thin foaminess to it all around. All in all, it is incredibly refreshing.

D: This may go head to head with Gumballhead for the most drinkable beer that I can think of. It is better than Gumballhead in fact because the hops do not obstruct the sheer guzzle ability of this beer. You could drink this in any circumstance for long periods of time. It is the ultimate session beer and it is disheartening to know how difficult it is to get in California because I would need several growlers of this given how fast it would disappear.

I merked the growler while I was prepartying and I ended up with a burgundy pixie wig in my pocket and 6 stamps on my hand. Pretty solid night.

Narrative: Easy Jasper was the town mechanic in the sleepy old town of Chataqua, Texas. Well, he wore many hats, old Jasper was the magistrate, deacon, bailiff, and district superintendent; but he operated out of Easy Jasper’s Lazytime Garage. Folks would come in from miles around with torque converters all busted up, slipping trannies, and limited slip differentials downright in shabby shape. Easy Jasper would take a sip of his old sweet lemonade and give the lowest price quote for miles around. Patrons not only had no choice, but he was downright fair through and through. He would bask in the sun like a lazy gecko and ponder the discs and gears involved, the deviations in a cam shaft and sleepily get to work. He was the smoothest old curr in Chataqua, but God damn did he get the job done. “Thanks Jasper! My Lotus Elise would have been in shambles if not for you, please let me-” “Nahhhh nahhhh, aint noooo body gonna give Jass- per no….guff.” He would wave them off with an oil stained glove and sip his refreshing orange drank lithely. A lazy son of a bitch, but did he ever get the job done.

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Kuhnhenn Barrel Aged 4th Dementia, The Perfect Beer Prior to a Parent Teacher Conference

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Ah Old Ales, for those times when new ales just aren’t new enough and sobriety just seems like such a hassle. The perfect beverage for right before a Parent Teacher Conference, particularly this barrel aged monster. Well, let’s see if this helps you escape some demons in today’s run into the 4th DEMENTIA.

Barrel Aged Old Ales: No Longer Just For Salty Old Sea Captains and Sobbing Divorcees.

Kuhnhenn Bourbon Barrel 4th Dementia, 13.5% abv, Old Ale

A: The bottle was almost completely flat with very minimal carbonation that dissipated very quickly with dark khaki bubbles that fizzled like the plot of an Owen Wilson film. The beer looks like a deep dark mahogany treat. The beer leaves this slick alcoholic coating to the edges that is clear but serves as potent reminder of the beast that you are about to wrangle to the earth.

This seems like a deal for all the sweet decadence that you are receiving, but it ultimately does a number on your life.

S: Holy ABV bombs. Not since Chocolate rain and Dark Lord vacated the premises has such a ridiculously boozy beer appeared on the scene. It isn’t that the ABV itself is so high that it is overwhelming cum de Utopias, it is more that the ABV just doesn’t give a shit. It posts up, leaves muddy alcoholic boots in the entryway and proceeds to rifle through the pantry in your nose. It is unabashed and very apparent. This isn’t the regular old 4th Dementia that I recalled., this is it’s alcoholic brother. I kinda like him more, in a weird way. There’s also some vanilla, toffee and mild figs but, covered in bourbon.

T: Again, don’t smoke while drinking this beer, the abv will ignite and BOY WILL YOUR FACE BE RED. This has an intense bourbon heat at the outset that fades into a deep sweetness and plum maltiness. The vanilla and chocolate is present and lends some complexity with all the oak and dry notes that round out this crazy chimera. Also, alcohol.

Again, this beer is both sinister and sweet. Sticky and evil at the same time. Pic related.

M: This has a hot slickness to it similar to a baby chocolate rain, chocolate drizzle if you will. The bourbon hit’s the gum line and warms your chest not unlike a salt shell from a 12 gauge. The mouth doesn’t really coat in a huge way like an imperial stout, this crazy hybrid feels like a Belgian Dubbel gone on a bender rampage. For a sipping beer, this is nice and relaxing. Also, not that it would really matter but, the lack of carbonation just made the angry abv even more rampant. My mouth was left pleading to the police that he didn’t mean it, and assured them that this beer was a “good one” and that it did not wish to press charges.

D: This is hardly drinkable in the 12oz format and, if they offered bombers that would be remiss to not offer a life insurance policy with it. The average user couldn’t take on this beast, and the average craft kid would likely feel that it was too boozy. The lack of carbonation made it all the more apparent that this beer is not here for you, it is present to shirk the trappings of a normal life. I have to knock this beer on the drink ability and overall overwhelming nature of the bourbon notes. If I wanted to kiss a Kentucky trucker, I JUST WOULD GO AND DO IT OK.

Drink one of these at 2 a.m., the sky is the limit.

Narrative: No matter how often he strayed from the straight and narrow, Clemson Biggs knew that he would somehow end up ok. “Hey, uh, Clem, we noticed that you went and vomited all over the side of your freightliner, again.” Clem pushed back the bill of his worn Bill Earnhardt Jr hat, with the Jr. scrawled out. “Oh, I’m SSSSORRY! I thought this was Darlene’s Coffee sop, I didn’t know we were in the DMVs! Hold on let me check for the illegal of BEING THE FLU!” His drawl was overwhelming and the booze on his breath was palpable. “Well Clem, it’s just, we know you are hauling ethanol and industrial chemicals on up to Truckee and, well that’s a long haul, why not give it a rest hun?” Darlene looked over her note pad and tapped her pen entreatingly. “OH OK, how about I jus never do any OF THE WORK? Oh suuuuuuuuure, everyone hey listen DARLENE will do your works and we just made in the shad-” he slipped out of the booth and knocked over a cardboard cut out of Tony Stewart. “I AM SICK OK? Just gotta get some medicine and then I can make that lil 450 mile drive and then, how abouts, this, YOU SHHHHHUT up?” he cackled to himself at the apparent clever quip that he had just crafted, much to Darlene’s chagrin. “God, when he is good he’s great but, it is just painful to see him this boozed up,” Darlene thought to herself. “Here, slice of apple pie, on the house,” she said as she slid him a piece of mediocre pie. “HOW ABOUT THE PIE HOUS-blarghhhhh!!!” Clem’s gem of insight was interrupted by his own projectile vomiting.

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Russian River Beatification, Just Settling in for a Nice Beat Sesh.

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I have been seeking this beer for a long, long time. Last December, Russian River released a mere 250 bottles, and I thought all was lost, what with the cellarrape that entailed landing a Batch 3 of this beast. Anyway, here we are 12,000 bottles later and I have to give a major thanks to my buddy Baldo for making the drive and snagging this for me. One more tick off the top 100, boom roasted.

Let the Beat drop.

Russian River Brewing Company
California, United States
American Wild Ale | 5.50% ABV

A: This beer has that amazing radiant glow to it that I haven’t seen since Ithaca Brute was all up in the mix. It reminds me of when Vincent Vega opens up the briefcase. We happy. The lacing is minimal and lets you know of the aching acidity that lurks beneathe. The legs trickle up like those bubble coin games that they used to have at Taco Bell that were impossible to win. I was fat as a kid. now.

After about a year of searching, I finally got my hands on this gem. Happy beatday to me.

S: When it is cold you get a lot of the acidity, the wet hay, and the more musky elements. It reminds me of a halfway house somewhere in between Cantillon Classic and Fou Foune. The fruit is apricot, pineapple, nectarines, and kumquats, but it doesn’t go as far as a fruited lambic, it has its own hybrid style like the Blake Griffin of the wild ale world, slam dunking the fuck out of imitators.

T: This beer has two sides to it, when it is cold, it is just acid and mild funk, none of the awesome fruits or rad complexity. When it warms up, shit starts to get real and you get more of the lemon and grapefruit tartness that starts dry fucking your gumline like the dudes in that Next video “Too Close.” This beer can tell you like it. While this isn’t a “skin” or a tannin, it reminds me of a tart strawberry that you get if you buy them super early from a roadside vendor and its both tart and drying due to the lack of sugars. That’s what it is like ok, just like that.

There are some seriously oblivious people out there who cannot appreciate this gem. Or Spac.

M: This hurts my lips, tum tum, and gumline but I put up with its punishment in the way that a 16 year old guy will put up with a completely apeshit girlfriend: the implicit benefits far outweigh the acrimonious exchange. The crackly acidity is in line with that feeling you get when you try to merk an entire box of Sour Patch Kids to yourself at a movie. You are strangely content but it does a number on your insideface.

D: This is a great wild ale but, admittedly, not my favorite sour of all time. It is unquestionably the best beer that I have had from Russian River but I still prefer Duck Duck Gooze and Veritas 007 to this, which is really picking the fly shit out of the pepper when it comes to that level, but you know what I am saying. This is exceptional, but not the absolute best/pinnacle of the genre. I can only hope that this comes out more often than once every three years because I dont want to have to ration one bottle every 6 months. Life can be challenging, you know?

This isn't the most expensive beer in the world, but you should probably own Marvin Gardens or Pacific Avenue before seeking this shit out.

Narrative: “Alright Devin, please continue, what happened after Mitch deactivated the pressure cylinder on the mixing vat?” Mitch leaned back in his chair and nodded knowingly about the sickest practical joke ever. “Well, I went to clean the vats so that the next batch of Atomic Warheads wouldn’t have an off flavor and, just as I was climbing in the vat Mitch yells-” “APRIL FOOLS MOTHERPUCKER!” “Ok Mitch, let Devin give his statement, this is serious.” Devin was still shivering, hair whitened and his modest clothes eaten through with patchy holes where the acid had eaten through. “It just burned my nose, finger nail beds and I was screaming, God it was so sour but my tear ducts were so dry and I couldn’t cry out.” Mitch nodded with a self-content smile “and then I was like, ‘DONT BE SUCH A SOUR PUSS!’ and he was all like being like ‘ah help mannn’ couldn’t even take the sour.” Devin’s eurethra was badly burned in the practical joke and it pained him badly to urinate. Mitch however, did receive a 3 day suspension and was transferred to the spicy section of the factory, where he assured Corporate that no “hot shit would go down.”

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Uinta Labyrinth Black Ale, You Have To Fight a Minotaur at the End of The Bottle

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Alright so let’s lay this to rest, black ale? No. Imperial porter? No. This is an imperial stout aged in rye barrels. I swear if they wrote that on the front in font size 22 they would have sold 200% more units. Everyone who stumbles across this ends up loving it and always says the same shit “BLACK ALE? I NEVER KNEW IT WOULD BE THIS GOOD!” Brewery kudos, labeling gaff, but in the end if you make an amazing product, you could call is Manticor Jizz and I would still probably drop the $15.99, just to, you know what I mean-

Infantile beer pics for the win.

Uinta Brewing Company
Utah, United States
American Double / Imperial Stout | 13.20% ABV

A: shiny black with a dull pallour that reflects a slight viscosity above a super black stout such as Abyss etc. Nice coffee colored head with thick lacing. The light around the glass was sucked in and not even photons could escape the lacing. This stout is a straight up entropy vacuum.

S: Black licorice notes, whisky heat on the nose, burnt coffee and oak scents, with a final sweetness that I cannot place, something akin to “dark caramel” if such a thing existed. There’s a mild anise and some leathery aspects, but a manly ass spaghetti western chocolate leather. That kinda shit.

A gigantic dark ale aged in rye barrels, Utah just introduced some serious problems to the rest of the Union.

T: Fantastic complexity, tons of bittering on the front with tomahawk hops and very herbal notes that give it an anise black licorice taste, think a shot of fernet brancha that fades into a chocolate milkshake. The coffee maltiness rounds out the body of this beer. The front explosion on the sweet taste buds is so overwhelming because the beer itself is so bitter, labyrinthian in character, your tongue cant make heads or tails as to where to go. The carbonation is moderate so the heat and chocolate oiliness is left to linger, which might be bad if the finish weren’t so pleasant.

At first when I realized this was a big black ale, my jimmies were rustled, then they were unrustled when I realized how good it was.

M: the mouthfeel has great coating, not excessive maltiness or carbonation. In fact, I feel that it was slightly flat if anything, but given the complexity of the flavor this is not a fair sleight to such an ambitious beer. Tough to push past the 2 beer mark unless you are really a fan of stouts and darkness to your beers. Most palates could handle a 5oz taster and that would be sufficient I am sure. But very tastey nonetheless and highly recommended.

D: I dont remember liking this style that much, what with Unibroue’s Terrible and Death and Taxes not leaving lasting impressions, however, this is probably the best “black ale” that I have ever had, excepting Mortification, which is very tough to find. It will likely be clositered into a niche where you use it to impress your friends who dont like beer, or relegated to the back of the cellar until Autumn begins its defoliation. This beer is certainly not welcome while one is working on his Transam or wearing cutoff jean shorts by the lake. Both activities comprise a large amount of my general lifestyle so it will be a tough one to work in.

After about 700ml of this, shit gets real and you start to wonder how you are going to get anything done in the morning. Scary realizations abound.

Narrative: Fumbling with the, is this it, my lighter? Click click, the flint strikes but only reveals more blackness. The last thing that I remember was approaching the everglades at night when I tripped over some licorice vines and, now I can’t make heads or tails as to where I am. The moon itself is obfuscated into a murky pallour behind jet black clouds, projecting a pathetic reflection. CLICK, finally the lighter strikes and I can see that my predicament is more complicated than I remembered, just darkness in each direction, an enveloping shroud that slowly seeps one of any hope of escape. Several paces later, and I feel more weathered, yet it seems I remain in my same position, more fatigued, with a lightness of the mind and body. Is this the “cave sickness” that they spoke of when I visited the mercer caverns as a boy? No, no time for that now, I have two options, continue down this murky path, ever exhausting and relentless in darkness OR lay down and succumb to the blackness. The labyrith will wait patiently for the sun to come.

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Cantillon St. Lamvinus, One Hell of a Lambic, God Dambic.

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People go loony for loonz. Cantillon is a hot button for beer nerds and European kids alike. A few of these bottles made it to the U.S. but if this was ever on a shelf in California, that shelf would only be found in the store manager’s house. So yeah, this beer is amazing and a complete pain in the ass to acquire. What else is new.

Dorothy Lamvinus was a saint.

Brasserie Cantillon
Belgium
Lambic – Fruit | 6.00% ABV

A: Nice ruby huge to a light magenta. It has micro bubbles with wispy lacing. It looks like a majestic wine cooler. If bartels and james won the lottery and went all high brow, this would be the result. Actually, if anyone won the lottery I would expect plenty of this all up in their house. This is about the closest that I get to wine, which is not very.

S: Huge tart notes with great strawberry, cherries, sour currants, and bitter grapes. Granny smith apple skins are there as well. This smells incredible. There’s that classic Cantillon musk, laundry hamper, Audi leather on a rainy day.

I cannot chill when loonz are involved. I need more, perpetually.

T: It has a crisp raspberry tartness that mellows into a smooth sweetness like a melted fruit rollup. It has a sour finish to it that imparts an incredibly refreshing dryness. This is one of the best Cantillon that I have had to date and it is one of the best Lambics that I have ever had. The vintage helped mellow it incredibly, even if it was only 2 years. The fruits interplay with the tart notes perfectly.

A little taste of Belgium, this beer is straight up showing me the world without Vanessa Williams.

M: It is incredibly light and juicy with minimal coating and chardonnay dryness that just stings and crackles in a fantastic way. The carbonation is like an army of diligent effervesence that makes sure the bitter notes are imparted with incredible efficacy. Again, just amazing balance all around. These reviews are hard to write and interject any levity because I am usually all half chub off the grapes and muskiness so I can’t focus on ways to talk shit on it. Serious problems.

D: This makes Consecration look like an imperial stout and Lindeman’s look like candy syrup. It is leagues above all other sours and lambics that I am familiar with. I could drink this in a boat, with a goat, green eggs and ham; etc. You could drink this with any food, at any location and it would be well suited. I feel that this could give white and red wine equal competition with pairings because it is so original and dynamic. I can’t imagine how blaeber could improve on this model but I am anxious to try [editors note, I tried Blabaer since I tried this and, it does improve on that model, not by a landslide but, blabbies gonna blab.]

Damn, grapes and musk, this loon can have all my digletts.

Narrative: Vitus Tanneen had been in some sticky jams before but this time, this time certainly was noteworthy. The walls of the trash compactor closed slowly, pressing the wine refuse closer into the chamber. The aluminum walls reeked of sweet grape skins and sticky notes. If not for the impending death, this would be an almost pleasant situation. “Well Sir Knuckles, looks like we are in a PRESSING SITUATION!” His friendly companion, Sir Knuckles, was an astute howler monkey with no penchant for puns. “WREE EE EE EEEK!” Sir Knuckles gestured imposingly to a hatch covered in sticky grape residue. “Well Sir Knuckles, this is one top that I have no hesitation to pop.” Using a wine opener, Vitus deftly unsealed the hatch and emerged into the bay area sunshine. “NOT TODAY KENDAL JACKSON! NOT TODAY!” He spun and his velvet tails swung after this athletic frame with the poise of a man, a man almost killed by grapes.

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The Bruery 100% Barrel Aged Cuir, I Want a Beer That Says “Daddy Likes Leather”

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Ah, back on the sweet Barrel Aged Bruery jams after a nice respite of sour tongue kisses. So this is the $30 100% barrel aged version of their anniversary beer, not be confused with the 25% barrel aged chopped and screwed version. Their new anniversary ale is coming out soon, so I figure I would celebrate the last day of pre-orders with this heater in the two seater.

For all the beer daddies out there who enjoy leather.

100% Barrel Aged Bruery Cuir
Old Ale, 14%

A: Great deep brown hues, like a masculine Belgian quad, this beer just exudes refinement. Its lacing and sticky profile connotes that this beer lives in a furnished loft that smells of rich mahogany. There’s a strange almost violet hue at the edge. The malty foam is like whitewater rafting with Kevin Bacon. I know, I phoned it in and fucked up on the non-pour pic, but use your imagination you ingrates.

This is a decadent gem that should be enjoyed in moderation, preferably out of the navel of a Ford model.

S: There is a huge raisin profile with booze and dark fruits. Again, it feels like you had the solid framework of a Subaru STI and then boosted it further. With compelling results. I enjoy the sticky caramel and bruised fruits all up in the mix. Brown sugar and some cinnamon poke their heads out but see that mommy and daddy booze notes are fighting and go back to bed.

T: There is a great cinnamon sweetness and again the dark fruits are dominate. Finally there is a satisfying molasses stickiness that just floats the wafty barrel notes incredibly well. The bourbon rolls deep with banana clips lighting up the scene indiscriminately. The raisin and stone fruits walk hand in hand in a civil union with the oak and bourbon and you are entirely tolerant of the results.

The heat amped up as it warmed, but the complexity of the flavor makes me not even mad.

M The mouthfeel is thin but enjoyable. I was expecting some huge maltiness but it actually keeps it pretty Callista Flokchart. Unlike its crazy brother Papier, the heat on the palate is noticeable but not over powering. If Papier plays football, this is more of a Le Crosse or debonair fencing type.

Probably shouldn't have taken this whole 750 to my dome piece. I ain't chicken. No regrets.

D The abv comes out bit by bit with warmth and makes it a little too much to take on by oneself. Then again, when drinking a 14%+ beer on your own, a 750 ml might not be the prescribed serving size. I enjoyed it immensely but, I also enjoy tiramisu. Just not a whole tiramisu. I am hardly the paradigm of moderation but this beer will get you more FEDED than Tyga.

Old ales always confuse me, but then I go to sleep and it all makes sense. Def a dank lil treat, 5/5 would read again, 2143 readers found this review helpful.

Narrative: Hitting the nightclubs with sage old Cornelius Woodage seemed like a complete paradox. What with his antiquated elephant hunting outfit, bezzled monocle, and a moustache that could only be deemed nonionic on the most hipster of circles: we just figured he wouldn’t fit in. “Guys, it’s a 3 bottle minimum for any guys, looks like we are sunk.” Cornelius strode up to the bouncer and immediately began to effect his bonhomie on what seemed like the entire line. His old genuine warmth had the tanned and tattooed masses eating out of the palm of his cream lambskin gloves. “Well chaps, looks like fortune smiles upon those who choose the flight not the right!” He clapped his riding boots together and we were immediately admitted. However, after 3 hours of drinking, he brandished a deuling pistol and fired it into a fish tank. All in all, he’s def a solid bro.

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Lost Abbey Framboise De Amarosa, Farmboise De Omarosa REEEMIXXXX 2012 CLUE CLUE DJ KAYSLAY THE DRAMA KING fee fee feenn feeennn.

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Alright, so I don’t usually drop the beat and bring the track back unless there’s not enough snare in my headphones. In the case of last year’s Framboise De Amarosa, there was too much acidic tinny snare rankling my jimmies. I was straight rustled. So I figured I would give this a chopped and screwed 2012 flow for the masses.

Some people complain that there are too many sour reviews up in the cut like what these days. Don't worry, the days of shitty adjunct lagers and Solo cups is almost among us. The air is redolent with bluebell and azalea.

Lost Abbey Framboise de Amarosa
American Wild Ale 7.0% abv

Let me kick off this slow jam by noting that this is largely different from last year’s batch in that the acidity has been ratcheted in, they install some sick fruit forward headers, and catback raspberry exhaust. If you like a more subtle approach, you will enjoy it more, if you have dental insurance, you might like the old acidic approach, hey, whatever chases your Valtrex is cool with me homie.

Old craft beer enthusiasts are tough to impress.

A: There are deep ruby hues with some nice light carbonation and light red lacing. It’s like Hypnotiq’s baller ass raspberry flavor to be all sipping on while you’re cruising in your triple black Challenger. It looks a lil more murky than last year but on the Cuvee De Tomme tip, just a lil juicy juice.

This beer is confusing but strangely fulfilling. The mystery continues further this year. Uncel Doland appreves.

S: The smell presents an intense cranberry and acidic dryness with raspberry on the nose. The oak is present in the smell and it is has a juicy wine profile to it. It’s like Andre Rose Champagne but with leather seats and a cutty ass Gucci interior. The skins and crispness of the berries is more present and there’s less of a harshness on the low ph scale to this, and it is more approachable as a result.

T: The taste is still drying but doesn’t go balls out on the oak, it has more of a refined and balanced approach to the berry and interplay with the base beer. If last year was a caustic Fox news, this would be…The Raspberry Science Monitor? As it warms you get a jammy preserve sort of interplay that works well with the skins and wild ale base.

This is a sweet sassy gem with a sticky sense of shameful reproach when the glass is gone.

M: Again, there is an intense, huge crisp dryness. The mouthfeel seems like it’s an intense merlot with oak to round it out. It’s tough to determine exactly how thin or thick this beer is because the coating is so acrimonious. IT’S SUCH A DEEP BURN, OHHH DEEP SQUATS WITH SICK BOUNCING BETTIES, SICK DEAD LIFT FINISH BROMOROSA.

Raspberry deliciousness. TARGETS ACQUIRED.

D: This is an incredible experience with crazy highs and low to it. This is not a figure of balance, nor does it do anything in moderation. It is impossible not to recommend this exceptional beer to others. Clearly, it is not meant to be enjoyed as a sesssion beer and should be treated accordingly. The taste is so amazing that it is hard to knock it for adhering to a certain style so well. Overall it is incredibly bitter and juicy and I am left wanting more.

This amazing raspberry gem is a sign of cognition and awareness to come. FUCKING BREADCATS PEOPLE.

Narrative: The train of her ostentatious gown dragged upon the split staircase with wanton disregard for anyone walking near her. After all, there were plenty of tailors within her Parlor and weekly soirees that would readily repair any damage. Somehow Countess Brioche sought more than just the exploitation of the endearing faces of the working classes. She sought their unending love. Notwithstanding, her acerbic parents brought her up to speak her mind truthfully and freely at all times, no matter how scathing. “Oh-oh-oh!” The Duchess of Piedmont fell down two stairs to her knees upon the rich velvet of Countess Briochess’s train. “Your steps lack precision due to the mass pressed upon them.” Mme. Brioche commented and felt a slight pang at her ejaculation. It wasn’t fair to cut others so deeply with such a bitter acerbic purity. Somehow, in this acidic repartee, others saw themselves, and their own shortcomings, despite the caustic burns they received. Countess Brioche looked upon a bustling courtyard of servants who despised her, but respected her stinging candor.

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Terrapin Hopzilla, White Men Can’t Jump, But HOP PUNS sure can

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I always scratch my chin and look with supreme circumspect glances when someone outside of California tells me about their awesome Double IPA. It’s like someone at a bar who hypes up how hot the girls are that are not at the club you currently are at, yet under it all you know deep inside that it might be true, inside (HIGH SCORE MOST PREPOSITIONS IN A SINGLE SENTENCE.) So I heard about this Double IPA from Terrapin, a brewery that I have a special fondness for anyway. From their marketing to their rad product, I am on board with their intents. Some say that they made REM form, I like to believe that, hailing from Athens, Georgia, they made REM break up. EITHER WAY IS AWESOME.

Japanese people hold a special reverence and respect for this beer, despite having never heard of it and having no access to it.

Terrapin Beer Company
Georgia, United States
American Double / Imperial IPA | 10.80% ABV

Alright so we have a burly, almost 11% abv DIPA on our hands here, look out, complete hard ass coming through. The appearance is awesome, and not just for the style FOR ANYTHING. It has a purely brass radiance that you can see through with a perfectly luminous sheen to it. The carbonation is almost annoying, but bubbly to a fault, like an insecure recent divorcee, but you understand the intent and forgive it. The smell is interesting because at first it hits that tropical o spot (olfactory) but then the heat warms it and it gets onto this honey meets pinecone jam sesh that I am less stoked on. The stoke levels remain noteworthy throughout.

An incredibly hoppy beer from Georgia, no time to explain.

The taste is downright neighborly and it feels like a local kid just raked your leaves and Old Man Clemson just baked one of his famous wheatgrass pies. The block is bustling with honey and springtime and also there is a drug dealer pumping 10.8% abv to the kids RIGHT UNDER YOUR NOSE. Seriously, check your kids room, there’s some ABV snuck in here and Trojan babies will be thrown from the windows when the sacking is complete. I guess you can read that as a larger USC reference, but no one going to that school would have their hands on this, which is a blessing to all.

And now there is a pinecone in your mouth. Wat.

The mouthfeel has this deeply herbal stickiness like clearing super bubonic cashed g13, in common parlance. I have no notes to improve because it is basically doing its own thing, like that crazy dude weaking British Knights and dancing at 7/8ths time in the club, it’s like, he’s original and still good at doing…that…so you just don’t harsh his mellow. I would seek this out again, but more likely cross my fingers and hope for it as an extra in a box.

Ran out of time, i will jazz this post up later, for the haters, so no narrative today.

Here’s an adorable pic to tithe you over:

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